Untitled
by La Perla Negra
Summary: The adventures of Jack and a gypsy while they get entangled within each other's deepest secrets... and themselves.
1. A Familiar Face

_She ran, gathering her skirts around her so as not to fall on the dampened cobblestone path. Her breaths were heavy - as well as her heart - as she made her escape. She spotted the docks ahead, as the darkened ship awaited departure. The stars shone brilliantly in the deepened sky, and the moon cast beams that turned the surface of the sea into flashes of fleeting silver. She ducked beneath behind a barrel, waiting patiently for a moment to steal aboard. She heard voices. Men. Peeking from around the wooden barrel, she brushed aside a long wet strand of her curls. Pirates. An involuntary chill ran down her spine. She had been warned about them. Spawn of the Devil himself, they had been called. But now they had begun to look more like her saviors. _

_There was not a moment that her heart did not cease to pound. She was risking everything. Everything that she had been raised in, everything she had grown to despise with every breath of her body. She lifted her brown face up to the sky, closed her eyes, and gave a shaky, uncertain exhale, face illuminated by the calmness of the moon. _

_The voices had faded, and the lights had dimmed, except for one which twinkled with surprising intensity. She crouched low, watching… waiting for it to fade along with the others. After what seemed like years, it was extinguished, and she let out a breath she did not realize she was holding. It was time. She stood, and stole across the humid air, not caring what she left behind, and scared of what she would come to find ahead…_

**Capítulo Uno**

He sat in the darkness of the smoky tavern, drinking rum and listening to the unusual hush of the crowd. He cocked his hat over his eyes, waiting for what, he wasn't sure. The small tavern was crowded, packed to the brim, and all eyes were eagerly faced forward as music began to play.

She emerged from the shadows, gently swaying her hips, barefoot and moving to the beat. Her back was turned to the crowd, but she knew all eyes were on her. Her snakelike movements and petite form caused many of the men to have lustful thoughts, but she had no room in her heart for any of her suitors. She twirled and clapped her hands in time to the exotic beat, shaking her hips and shimmying the beadwork of her top in the faces of those that yearned so eagerly for her.

Her face was covered by a black sash that deepened the intensity of her brooding eyes. He watched her, entranced, and wondered when he could get her alone. There was much he needed to say in little time.

They called her "La Perla Negra" – the Spanish gypsy with a soulful voice and an exotic flair that none other possessed. She was young yet seductive, with deep brown eyes the color of melted chocolate and dark curls that cascaded in waves over her bronzed shoulders. She was never in one place for long, yet the place she spent the most time in was Tortuga, dancing for small change and reading palms and telling fortunes for those who bothered to wonder about the future. She was the main attraction for any watering hole on the island… everyone competed to have her grace their business with her beauty, elegance and mysterious ways.

She left in a wild cloud of smoke, and the crowd erupted in hoots and hollers, men crying out for an encore… but she gathered the gold coins that they had tossed to the floor and left without granting them one. The man at the table followed her with his brown eyes and then stood, watching the smoke fade in gray curls in the air, and decided to follow her. He knew where she stayed from the previous nights he had waited until she emerged from the tavern. But he couldn't wait for her to leave. He was going to find her now.

She heard footsteps behind her, but she didn't bother to turn to see who they belonged to. They had heard stories, all of them, and knew she wasn't a force to be reckoned with. So she wasn't afraid.

She scurried up the stairs to a tiny room and slammed the door behind her, locking it and collapsing in front of a mirror. The gypsy pulled the black sash from her face and stared at her reflection, shadows wavering on her face due to the lit candles that adorned her cramped quarters.

There was pounding on the door and she turned, curls bouncing, to face it. Her eyes met the harsh wood of the doorframe, and she wished that she could see through it… but she knew there was no need. She sensed his presence the moment he had stepped inside the tavern. Something inside her ignited.

She hesitated, then pulled up her right sleeve, caressing the "P" that had been scorched into her skin above her wrist a few years back. Suddenly angry, she grabbed a gleaming sword off the wall and kicked the door open, eyes blazing with an untold fury. She pointed the sword at the heart of her visitor.

"Well I do thank you for such a warm welcome," he began, placing his hands slowly in the air. Furious, she raised the blade directly under his chin and narrowed her eyes. "Jack Sparrow," she spewed, spitting out his name as if it were a vile poison. "Dulcinea," he responded, cooing her own, his voice contrasting with the hatred in her own. "My little black pearl."

Relentless, she pressed harder into his skin, filled with fury but somehow, her heart had been softened.

"Dulce, I need your help. Sit down and put that bloody sword away. We need to talk and I don't have much time." He pushed the sword away and it fell clattering to the ground as he took a seat behind her crystal ball, gazing into it wistfully. Hands shaking, the fury that had hardened her heart returned. How could she ever forgive him after what he had done to her!


	2. Jack's Proposition

_**Disclaimer: I only own Dulcinea… but I must admit I wouldn't mind owning Jack! (Who wouldn't?)**_

_**So sorry for the delay in an update… the Document Manager has been giving me trouble for days now. Thank you so much for the reviews… if you're reading my story and have an opinion on it, I would love to hear it!**_

_The first few days she was scared to move, so she stayed hidden beneath the dusty tarps of an unused lifeboat. Though her belly was riddled with hunger she dared not move a muscle during the light of day while the men roamed about the deck, repairing parts of the ship that had been damaged along their trying journey._

_For three days, the ship was berthed, and for three unbearable days Dulcinea stayed hidden beneath her sanctuary, praying that the death she had staged was enough to keep them all from searching for her. On the fourth day, as the sun climbed steadily in a cloudless sky, the ship departed. Dulcinea was hot, sticky and weak, yet she found the strength to peek out at Spain fade away, the country she was so eager to leave behind…_

**Capítulo Dos**

**Dulcinea watched him as he sat, and she felt a strong aching in her heart for what used to be. She had known he was going to come to her. It had been written in the stars.**

"**How dare you ask me for help when you left me in that cold, cramped, dank cell?" she asked, furious. Jack ran his fingers over the smoothness of the ball, and she stomped over and slapped his hand. "Don't touch that!" she commanded, knowing that he would break it within a few minutes. Crystal balls were expensive and hard to come by.**

"**My apologies, love," Jack said, sending her an offset look. "And what do you mean I left you in a cell… YOU left me. You abandoned me. You _betrayed_ me." **

**Dulcinea immediately pointed a finger in his face. "How can you accuse me of such a thing? I was set up!" Jack absently stroked the multicolored beads that adorned his hair. "Set up, ay?" "YES. SET UP." **

**She sat down and crossed her arms, irritated that he could think such a thing. But she supposed it was just part of the job description. Trust not. _Never. _Despite any circumstance. Even love.**

**Jack yawned and stretched out all four of his limbs. "Well, instead of sit here and accusing each other of crimes and injustices of the past, I do believe we should grab a bite to eat. What do you say?" **

**Dulce sighed within herself. She was not usually one to give up so easy, and yet this was Captain Jack Sparrow. Within a moment she had grabbed a peasant dress and turned her back away from the estranged pirate. "Do you mind a bit of privacy?" she asked, lifting her top and tossing it to the floor, looking over her bare shoulder suggestively at the pirate. His eyes traced her curvy form, and she cleared her throat impatiently. As if being roused from a spell, Jack blinked and rose, heading to the door. "I'll – I'll be waiting outside," he stuttered, and backed into her small, covered table. The crystal ball immediately rolled off of its ornately carved stand, and crashed to the floor. It rolled a short distance before rushing into a wall at top speed, and bounced off violently. Jack froze, sauntered over to it and picked it up. A damaging crack ran from the surface deep within.**

"**I am so terribly, deeply sorry," Jack muttered, unsure of what to do with the broken ball, so he placed it back on the stand and hurried out of the room. Dulcinea sighed deeply and continued to change. Nothing about her pirate had changed at all. Absolutely nothing!**

**A short time later, she covered her arms with a blood red shawl that she had sewn herself, and stepped outside the door to greet Jack while he awaited her outside the door. **

**She gave him a coy look and smiled painfully. "I do believe you owe me a crystal ball," she said, only half-teasing. He smiled back. "I believe I could also give you a meal, while you listen to my proposition, savvy?" She nodded, then pulled the shawl tighter over her shoulders as they made their way out into the cool, island air.**

**Jack couldn't help but eye the beautiful gypsy as she sat down at the table across from him, sipping at a mug of frothy grog. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared back at him before speaking. "So what is this 'proposition' that you are planning on proposing?" She was still undeniably beautiful, he had come to realize, only her curves had become much more pronounced. She was a real woman now. Beautiful… and feisty. Jack figured he might as well put everything on the table. He had nothing to lose. "I need you to come with me."**

"**Go with you…" she repeated. "Go where?"**

**Jack downed some rum and slammed his glass back on the table. "Isla de Formentera," he said, twiddling his thumbs.**

**Dulce's eyes instantly darkened. "I am never going back to Spain," she protested. "I will not go." **

**Jack ignored her testament, and pulled a wrinkled map out of his pocket. Spread across the table was a map of Spain, and the tiny island of Formentera in the Mediterranean Sea. It pained Dulcinea to even glance over it, and she looked away.**

"**Deep in the heart of the island lays a famous treasure. One with enough wealth to make us both filthy rich, forever. Do you know what I'm talking about?"**

**The gypsy was quiet. Did she ever.**

**Jack continued on despite her silence, his voice hushed underneath the loud ruckus of the other patrons.**

"**Hundreds of years ago, Spain was under invasion. The King was in trouble. He knew if anyone got a hold of his wealth that his power would slip from his fingers like sand in a sieve." He paused to take another drink. "Legend has it that he hid every last bit that he owned and tucked it all away on a tiny island in a cave deep beneath the ground, in the famed Cavern of Light. He had a powerful sorceress place a spell on this cavern, so that no one at all could find it, because he knew in his heart that he would be murdered in cold blood, and he was right. Every hundred years after his death the location of the cavern shifts magically underneath the island, buried deep within. I have reason to believe I know where it is now."**

**Jack's dark eyes shone with wonder as he told the tale that the gypsy already knew. That she had been raised on. His fervor was not one to convince her.**

"**What you have neglected to inform me is of the curse on the Cavern itself. Yes, it shifts every hundred years, but there is something else. Only a direct descendent from the King himself or the sorceress can counteract the spell. And only then will the cavern itself be accessible for one hundred days. After the one hundred days, the cavern will be closed forever, and who ever is trapped inside will suffer terrible consequences… those that are too vile to even imagine."**

**She glanced down at the map again and gently traced the outside of the island itself. **

"**So you 'ave 'eard of it!" Jack exclaimed sprightly, ordering up another round of drinks.**

**Dulcinea's thoughts had wandered and she was now trapped in a foggy haze. One night she was dancing to get enough food to survive on, and she now had a chance to get away and get back on the sea... back to freedom. But now her thoughts had wandered back to Spain. She had swore to herself she would never return. She decided she would keep her allegiance.**

**She broke off the crust of her bread and dipped it into her soup thoughtfully. "I'm not going back," she repeated to the pirate sitting across from her, who was eager to begin a quest for the impossible.**

**Jack leaned forward in his seat and stared the gypsy down. She was going if he had anything to do with it. And he had a lot to do with it, indeed.**


	3. A Plea from a Drunken Pirate

**I suppose another little blurb wouldn't kill me. I'm feeling generous today. :o)**

_She had seen him from time to time and was instantly smitten. She knew enough of him to know that he was a very powerful figure, and there was something about his playful presence and his commanding swagger that drew him towards her. Captain Jack Sparrow, she had learned from listening and watching whenever she had the chance. They had stolen the ship from a few lowly pirates in England, and were on their way now to Port Royal, Jamaica. _

_Nighttime brought freedom for Dulcinea as she learned to avoid the night watch, who usually dozed off as the ocean bobbed the ship up and down and lulled him to sleep. She wandered around the ship's parts carefully, stealing food now and then and not leaving a trace of her presence, careful not to raise suspicions. But it was Captain Jack himself who noticed something was amiss. _

_He stood in his cabin late one night, candles extinguished, watching by the window, and waited. He knew that someone wasn't being honest about the rations he had doted out, and he was determined to find out who was stealing the extra food, fully prepared to shoot the bloody bastard who was culpable. _

_The captain was just about to doze off when he heard soft, careful footsteps. His eyes snapping open, he gripped his pistol and watched with curiosity as a young girl about the age of fifteen wandered by, a dark cloak concealing her identity. He got up and slowly opened his door, stepping out into the warm sea air._

_She was huddled over a basket of fruit when he approached her from behind, eating ravenously. He cocked his gun and she froze, then turned slowly to face him. A half-eaten apple fell to the floor, and she raised her hands in defense._

"_And so, we have us a stowaway," he said, approaching her and lifting the cloak that covered her face. A cascade of dark brown curls fell from underneath, and her brown eyes penetrated his determinedly._

"_You do know what we do to pretty young stowaways aboard our ship, don't you, love?" he voiced, running the tip of his gun down the front of her bodice. A sudden chill came over her as he smiled and flashed a few gold teeth. _

_She dropped a bag at his feet, and out spilled gold coins, jewels and rare gems. "I'll give you what you want," she began, boldly squaring her jaw, "If you take me in as your own and promise me no harm." _

_Slightly surprised, he looked down at the treasure and back up at this young girl as she stood before him, suppressing her fear. He lowered his gun and frowned. _

"_Who are you?"_

**Capítulo Tres**

**After their meal, the pair headed back to the confines of Dulcinea's upstairs hideaway. Jack was mumbling about treasure and gold and Spain, while the gypsy's head spun. She knew in her heart it was unreasonable, that she could be easily found if she went back, but something within her wanted to stay with Jack. Even while she nearly rotted in jail after being caught by the East India Trading Company several years ago, she pined for him, barely eating and unable to sleep. She knew that her heart still belonged to him, and she also knew that his feelings for her had not died. She could tell by the way he looked at her.**

"**And we'll leave three days from now, then. I still 'ave yet to find a decent crew to get us there. About eight should do us well, ay?" **

**Jack was still talking (mostly to himself), eagerly planning the trip that he would be going on alone. Well besides for his 8 person crew. Dulcinea stifled a yawn. **

"**Time to retire, I suppose," Jack said, yawning himself. "Do you know a place where I could rest me head for a few nights?" He glanced at her sideways, and she knew what he was trying to do. She caved in. It had been a long time since she had had someone sleep beside her.**

"**You might as well get yer swashbucklin' arse upstairs… there's barely room for one but I'm sure I can find some way to make room for two." She smiled at him, and he returned the smile drunkenly, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "You are too, too kind, my dear," Jack slurred as he had some difficulty making his way up the stairs.**

**Getting him up the stairs and safely inside was the task that Dulcinea knew would be the most difficult. She stood behind him, steadying his wobbly steps, and guided him through the door with a slight shove. Jack, his balance completely off, stumbled ahead and bumped directly into a glass cabinet, filled with small vials of multi-colored potions. The glass vials clinked as they bounced off of one another, and Jack ended up sprawled on the floor, unable to move. **

"**Oh dear…" he murmured, closing his eyes. The gypsy knelt beside him. "Jack?" "Hmmm?" "Come on, now. Up ya goes." She managed to somehow pull him upright, and he landed safely on her small, rumpled bed. She pulled off his boots, his effects, as well as his beloved hat without protest from the drunken pirate. His eyes were closed and his body was still. She lit a candle beside the bed and climbed in beside him, leaning over his frame.**

"**Jack…" she murmured to herself, reaching out and caressing his face gently. It had been so long since she had been close to him, and there was no way she could avoid those sparks that flew within. Since that day she had walked away, she had longed for him.**

**Jack opened his eyes narrowly, and reached up to play in her soft, draping curls. She closed her eyes, welcoming his touch. The pirate proceeded to pull her lower, till their lips almost met. She opened her eyes and gazed at him. He opened his mouth and the scent of rum floated around her.**

"**My little pearl," he repeated again, holding on to her tightly. "Dulcinea, come with me. We have so much to see. Me and you… we belong together. Turning our backs on the world that judges us so harshly and turning our hearts to each other is what we do best." He reached up deeper in her curls, his hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. "The King and Queen of the Spanish Main we'll be. We'll own the world." He smiled then, eyes deep into hers. "Nobody will be able to take that from us, love. Come with me, and never look back." Jack's words fell into a hush as he took her mouth in his, kissing her delicately. She felt as though she was drowning in his love, and drowning in his words. She had been turning her back against the world her whole life. She wasn't sure if she should turn now. Should she go? Or should she stay? Her mind was telling her it wasn't wise to get wrapped up in a pirate, but her heart was already sailing in the sea of his love. She snuffed the candle, and they fell asleep, minds clouded, but hearts receptive to each other. **


	4. Confrontation

**A little fun for you all before I head out to work. I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. To those who review… thank you for your time in boosting my morale! It's been quite some time since I have written anything. And to those that don't… it would be a wonderful gift if you begin. :o)**

_He caught her in her lie almost immediately. "Show me your hands," he demanded, and she knew then that she was in trouble. She reached them out to him cautiously, palms down, and he flipped them over swiftly as though to disprove her point. Her palms were pale, smooth, and callous free. He flipped them over again to study her nails and noticed that they were medium-length, clean and manicured. He scoffed._

"_What a lovely servant girl you must have made," he noted sarcastically. "With the hands of a princess." _

"_The hands of a princess," she retorted, "but the heart of a pirate." Captain Sparrow laughed again, his heartiness reaching out into the depths of the damp sea air. "I'll be the judge of that, pet," he said with a curious smile. "I'll be the judge of that."_

**Capítulo Cuatro**

**She awoke alone the next morning, which didn't surprise her. The sun was peeking through the fabric covering the lone window in her room, and she sat up slowly and stretched. Jack was probably already on his quest for a crew, and she was still struggling with the fact that she wanted to go, even though she knew very well she shouldn't.**

**Dulcinea prepared herself to go out to the market, because having Jack as a guest for two more days meant living a bit more comfortably than she was used to, and she wasn't one to cater to guests with no food or drink. And this especially was no ordinary guest! She combed her hair and left it free and flowing, yet pinned it from her face with an ornate jade comb that Jack had stolen from the Orient on their last wild quest years and years ago. It was a gift close to her heart, one that she prized as much as the air that she breathed. During her years away from him, she felt close to him anytime she slipped it in her hair. **

**She donned a simple dress that she had fashioned out of various fabrics and patterns, and slipped on her comfortable sandals, grabbing a wicker basket before she began her journey down the stairs and to the market. **

**Tortuga in the morning was much milder than it was at night. Yes, the drunkards were still passed out in the dewed grass and the prostitutes were turning in from their scandalous money-making escapades from the night before, but it was much more quiet. The sun was rising steadily, yet there was still a bit of a chill in the air. Dulce almost wished she had brought along her shawl as she shivered and drew her arms close to her body.**

**It wasn't long before the Caribbean sun brought a thin perspiration to her brow, and she was grateful that she hadn't brought it along after all. The market was bustling, with vendors loudly advertising their merchandise, goats and chickens wandering aimlessly amongst the people bartering and children crying. The young gypsy wandered in and out, stopping to purchase much needed bread, cheese and milk, and reluctantly admiring beautiful necklaces and mysterious amulets.**

**Her attention turned to a musician who was late setting up his storefront. He had all kinds of musical things, from sheet music to flutes, harps to lutes, from guitar picks to…**

**Dulcinea took a sharp breath and touched her fingers to her lips in surprise. A _vihuela_! She hadn't seen one in years! **

**She picked it up in her fingers and stroked it with admiration. So beautiful. So lovely. She wondered how such a beautiful Spanish guitar could end up unexpectedly in the heart of the Caribbean, and in her very arms. She plucked the strings softly with her fingers, and suddenly… she was no longer in Tortuga. She was a little girl sitting under a tree in Spain, listening to her father pour out his soul in this lovely wooden instrument… listening to his strong voice carry out over rolling emerald hills…**

"**Missy… are ye plannin' on strokin' it or buyin' it?" **

**The merchant whisked her away from the beautiful hills of Spain and suddenly she was standing in Tortuga again, squinting against the harsh island sun. He glared at her with crooked brows and a cloudy left eye. Suddenly frightened, she gripped the _vihuela_ tighter. She had made up her mind that she wasn't going to leave it behind. **

"**My dearest sir," she began, regaining her composure slowly, already knowing that she wouldn't have enough gold to call the precious instrument her own, "For how much are you selling it?" The man smiled widely with brown, broken teeth. "More than ye 'ave, I can assure ye," he spat, reaching out to grab the instrument with his blackened, grubby hands. Dulcinea pulled away. "Wait!" she cried… "Wait. Surely I can give you something in return." Thinking fast, her hands went for the beautifully jeweled comb in her darkened hair. "It's small, yet priceless. I got it during my travels in the Orient a few years back… an undeniably valued piece of artw-" She was cut off by a hand that thrust her backwards and almost made her lose her balance.**

"**How much for the bloody guitar?" A male voice inquired, throwing a bag on the table that spilled out shimmering gold coins. "Surely you wouldn't want to disappoint the dear lass, ay?" Jack studied Dulcinea so fiercely she turned away with shame, placing the comb back in the midst of her curls. Suddenly interested, the merchant said not a word, but quickly scooped up the bag and waved them away with his dirty hands. Jack grabbed her roughly and escorted her past a man herding bleating goats. **

"**So it wasn't enough for you, then?" he began, obviously hurt. Dulcinea pulled her arm from him and looked him in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I don't know what more I can say." He looked at her again, and decided to leave it alone. He continued walking, leaving her trailing behind him.**

"**Jack! Jack!" She stumbled after him, trying to balance the weight of both the_ vihuela_ and the wicker basket full of food in her arms. He turned suddenly, anger obvious in his features. "I found a crew willing to help us get to Spain," he told her. "We leave Tortuga Wednesday." "Wednesday?" she repeated, struggling to understand, "But that's tomorr-" "Yes," he interrupted. "So have your things ready tonight." Eyes squaring with her own anger, Dulcinea frowned deeply. "Jack, I told you that I would die before I return!"**

**He grabbed her again, this time from the front, and pulled her so close that yet again she could smell the slight stink of rum on his breath. He scowled angrily. "You refuse to go back yet you still yearn for things that belong to Spain!" He let her go so forcefully that the basket fell in the mud, spilling its contents. "You'll go all right!" he shouted, "Dead or alive!" The angered captain turned and stormed away. He left her standing alone in the mud, with the soiled food at her feet and the ornately carved guitar sitting smoothly in her delicate hands.**


	5. A Game of Chance

_The next few weeks on that ship tested her strength in every way possible, both physically and mentally. The captain was training her under a scrutinous eye, never letting her out of his sight. _

_Above deck he was teaching her how to be a pirate. He tossed her swords and pistols and taught her how to fight, control the rigging and swab the deck. She learned navigation, how to understand a compass and read a map, and how to repair the ship. _

_But below the deck, when they were alone, he was teaching her how to become a woman... _

**Capítulo Cinco**

Jack didn't return later that afternoon, or that evening. Dulcinea sat alone in her room, thinking. She wondered if Jack was more upset that she didn't want to go with him, or that she was going to attempt to give the comb in exchange for the _vihuela_... which was sitting on the opposite side of the room, untouched. She felt guilty in a way, knowing that Jack was right. But both the comb and Spain had at one point in her life given her a sense of false loyalty.

A knock at her door made her jump, yet she soon relaxed and cracked it open to see a familiar face. She smiled, heartbeat returning to a normal pace.

"Come in, Mr. Dibbs," the gypsy said, stepping aside. "You frightened me!" Henry shrugged his shoulders, a burly man with a face the color of a sun-ripened tomato. He owned the Smokey Inn, the tavern that Dulcinea now stayed in, and he checked on her regularly. Henry Dibbs was always eager for her to stop by because without her business was usually poor, mostly due to the fact that he always drank much more rum than he served.

"Well, well, dearest, how are ye today?" he prodded, stooping slightly so as not to bang his head on the low ceiling.

"Quite fine, thank you," she lied, sitting on the edge of her bed thoughtfully. Mr. Dibbs, although a drunk, was not stupid. He eyed her with his crisp blue eyes and tugged at his reddish beard, looking for the words to say something.

"Not to be intruding, my dear, but I must advise ye to stay away from the riffraff I've seen ye gallivanting with." She lifted her face up to him, and he gave her a reproachful look. "My business has not the best of reputations, but a pirate! And Jack Sparrow at that!" He shook his head disdainfully. "Wherever he goes… trouble follows 'im. And I don't want to bring that trouble into me place of business." Dulcinea sighed, not wanting to be lectured. "All of Tortuga is trouble. And you know that!" Dibbs frowned, losing his short, thick fingers in his red wiry beard. "Yes, dear, well, a man like 'im doesn't belong with the likes of a girl like ye. Or in a place like mine!" It was the gypsy's turn to frown. "Sparrow is an old friend of mine. Without his help, I would be dead. Any place where he is not welcome is a place where I am not either." She stood up, and started grabbing her things, knowing she would get her way.

Dibbs jumped at her, and she once more turned to face him. He sighed, knowing very well that he had lost. He needed her much more than she needed him. "Don't let him be a problem, dearest. The minute he causes trouble… he's out!" He lifted her chin and stared at her, waiting for her agreement. She nodded her accord, and he stooped out of her room, muttering "Bloody pirates" as he left, shutting her door and leaving her alone once more.

About an hour passed, and Dulcinea sat in the same spot, staring at the _vihuela_, almost lost completely in thought. Her stomach grumbled angrily at her, and she knew that it was well past time for dinner.

She gathered her skirts at her feet and made her way down the stairs to the tavern below, and she stepped into its smoky haze, looking for a meal. Dibbs was at the bar with a man about twenty years younger with the same wiry red hair. The young gypsy must have been staring awful hard because one of the wenches approached her with a tray of drinks.

"That's 'is nephew," she provided, nodding her head at the two. "Apparently he'll be taking the place over in a few. I 'eard em whispering about it in a corner." Dulce studied the two men, who were still lost in conversation. Dibbs hadn't told her about a replacement. She wondered why.

As her thoughts continued to swirl, she suddenly got a sick feeling deep in her gut. Something was wrong.

She turned to the door, and saw Jack. He was standing there with two curious men, men who looked like they were fresh off the streets - or a cursed ship, for that matter. She pulled her shawl closer around her. As the men walked away, the feeling faded. Jack caught her eye and came over. She could tell that he was still sore about the incident in the market, and she touched his arm in sympathy.

"Jack."

"Dulcinea."

The two stared at each other, and then Jack nodded to a table. "I don't know about you… but I'm starving," he announced, breaking the odd silence and slouching onto the bench. Dulcinea promptly slipped in across from him. She felt eyes on her, and she looked up to meet icy blue ones. Diggs and his nephew were staring at her. She quickly lowered her eyes and grabbed Jack's hand, which diverted his attention from the menu he was studying.

"I need to talk to you about something."

He looked at her curiously, and then put down his menu. "Just a minute, love," he said. "Missy! Over here. We're ready to order."

Another wench came by and took both of their orders, and left behind a big bottle of rum and two shot glasses. Jack poured one, and in less than a second, it was gone. "Alright, love, you 'ave my full attention." His glassy eyes were turned to her. She stroked his hand.

"Jack, have you ever had any problems with Mr. Dibbs?"

"Who?"

"The owner of this place. Over there. By the bar."

Jack coolly took another shot and turned, and his expression remained clear of any emotion. "Oh, him. We've run into each other quite a few times."

"He doesn't like you being here." Dulcinea tucked a strand of curls behind her ear. "What happened?"

Jack smiled oddly. 'Well… he just 'as a thing against pirates, is all. Such a pity."

Dulce felt eyes boring into the back of her head, and she turned. Both of the filthy pirates that she had seen talking to Jack were staring deeply at her. She instantly gripped her stomach. There was that feeling again.

"Something wrong?" Jack's voice sliced through her thoughts.

"Who… who are those pirates that just left?" she asked, trailing a pattern in the wood of the table. Jack swirled the bottle of rum around aimlessly. "Just some regular old pirates, love. They were looking for a captain. I was looking for a crew. We made a few arrangements… a few agreements…" He took a swig from the bottle, and offered it to her. She politely refused.

"I… I don't know, Jack. I don't have a good feeling about those two…" she began uncertainly. Jack shook his head and stretched his legs under the table. "They're pirates, my dear lass. Of course you wouldn't have a good feeling about them." Dulce involuntarily stroked the P branded onto her right wrist. _She_ was a pirate. Or at least branded as one forever.

The gypsy cast a glance up to the bar, but both Dibbs and his young nephew were gone. She bit her bottom lip in wonder. Something just wasn't right.

Jack pulled out 5 die from his pocket with a smile and tossed them on the surface of the table. Dulce picked them up and smoothed her hands over the cool ivory cubes.

"How's your luck, love?" the pirate prodded. "Luck is objective," the gypsy announced. Jack smiled again. "Well, luck has always seemed to follow you. Probably all those garlic cloves and rabbit feet and water stones and those other weird things you sell," he muttered. "But, how about a few games for old time's sake?"

They bet, and gambled, and the gypsy won. Every time. Jack sat back and watched her as she scooped his gold from the table into her small woven coin purse.

"I see your luck hasn't changed any." Jack stroked his braided beard goatee observantly. "Well, what many people don't often realize, is that luck is something that stays with you for life, it's something you're born with. Some people are just born unlucky. Like you." She smiled teasingly and the pirate lifted his chin defiantly. "So, then. Why do you sell your amulets if they won't do any good?" The gypsy shrugged. "Every little bit helps."

Jack suddenly straightened, and his eyes bore into the young woman, challenging her. "Dulcinea, how willing are you to depend on your luck?" he asked, eyes glittering with mischief. The gypsy cocked her head in wonder. "What do you mean?"

Jack pushed the dice over to her again.

"Well. Let's raise the stakes. If you win, I'll leave you alone and you can stay in Tortuga until you rot." He smiled deviously. "But if I win… you'll join me on my voyage. Savvy?"

Dulcinea frowned. Was she willing to bet everything she stood for on a game?

Finally, after a moment's thought, she set her chin and grabbed the dice, jingling them in her palm. She met eyes with the pirate and didn't turn from his gaze.

"Agreed."


End file.
